


And Then Rose the Sun

by eveshka



Series: The Dawn King Cycle [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, DID I MENTION SPOILERS, DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU WANT TO BE SPOILED, Dawn King Cycle, Drama, Gen, Like in the first few lines, Spoilers, endgame spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-16 18:20:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 19,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9284144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eveshka/pseuds/eveshka
Summary: This isn't a story about what happens in-game. This is a story about what happens after. It starts with a spoiler, and where it will go is anyone's best guess. Even mine.Darkness fell. And then rose the sun.





	1. Chapter 1

_Anyone dead?_

_Not me!_

_Noct?_

“Does tired count?” He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but memory was a fickle thing, the oft-repeated joking banter that he and his companions would offer after a grueling battle in what had become almost ritual.

Floating in the crystalspace, he was tired, the epitome of dead tired. The ring had fallen from his hand at long last, and with it had gone all of his power. It was time. “It’s finally over.”

 

“Well done, Noctis Lucis Caelum.”

 

“Thank you,” He wasn’t sure who had said it, but it had been a gruff sound, one of the Six offering comfort as he felt himself fade, his thoughts scattered into light.

 

* * *

 

 

The sun had risen.

And so, too, the son, Ignis supposed wryly, but he made no outward comment to the sort. He hurt mentally and physically, in fact, he was pretty sure that the three of them outside the Citadel were the picture perfect definition of hurt.

Prompto had fallen to his knee for another shot, but the bare light of the sun had claimed the enemy before he could fire, and Gladiolus’ sword-strike had resulted in the blade jarring hard against the ground. Ignis couldn’t be certain without asking, but he suspected the blade had broken. His own daggers remained reversed in his grip, and only a wisp of magic came to him when he tried to put them away.

That only had one meaning.

 

“We should go.” The unspoken part of Ignis’ statement was that they should go to the throne room and attend to whatever needed doing in there. Of course, Ignis mused, he’d be of less use initially, given that while he recalled the layout of the throne room, he’d be more likely to be in the way than help.

“Yeah.” Prompto, unusually (but understandably) serious. Soft sounds meant that the youngest of the trio had regained his feet and then a hand patted his right shoulder. “We should.”

Silence stretched for a moment, and then Ignis cleared his throat.

A grunt of assent, Gladiolus’ gruff voice from his left, followed by a clatter. Ah yes, the sword.

“Pity about the blade,” Ignis commented as he turned in the direction he believed the Citadel to be. A gentle touch made him correct by a quarter turn to the left, and with a nod, he moved towards the steps, paying little mind to Gladio’s grumbling behind him.

 

The only sound in the halls were the footsteps of the trio, and only Ignis’ footsteps were sure and precise. Prompto’s were lighter, uncertain and slightly shuffled, as if he was turning and twisting to look all around them as they proceeded through the citadel. Gladio’s steps were heavier, with a degree of measured uncertainty, though that could have been due to his loss of a weapon. Should anything come at them, Gladio was unarmed. It wasn’t that it put him at risk, but Ignis much preferred the King’s Shield to have a blade.

Ignis paused, and then reached out a hand. “Gladio,” The dagger, offered hilt first, was taken after a moment, and another gruff sound of thanks. “I’ll want that back,” Ignis warned, “But for now, it will serve you well enough.”

Gladio hadn’t spoken since Noctis had left them and walked up the stairs. There wasn’t much to say, to be honest. At least not during the fight. But now… it was only the three of them, and Prompto had gone up ahead- the door to the throne room opened, and a peculiar scent hit Ignis’ nose before Prompto’s oath hit his ears. Blood and sylleblossoms.

 

Ignis moved for the door, and an arm was suddenly thrust into his path, barring him at the door. It wasn’t Gladio’s, and Ignis raised an eyebrow behind his tinted lenses. “Prompto?”

“You… don’t want to go in there, Ignis. It’s…” There was an inhalation of breath, and Prompto continued. “It’s well, they say your senses change, right? To adapt? So your hearing and sense of smell… it’s pretty strong. In there, I mean.”

“If you are referring to the scent of blood, the sylleblossoms are stronger,” Ignis replied archly, pushing past Prompto and moving into the throne room. He could still smell the blood if he concentrated, but the flowers were almost cloying.

“Sylleblossoms? Dude, there isn’t a flower in sight,” Prompto said from behind and then to the side. He kept walking, and Ignis knew when the blond had started climbing the steps. “Here, let me help you with him,” that was said to Gladio.

Ignis’ head pounded, and he nudged his glasses out of habit. “Report,” he called, irritated that he had to remind someone to tell him what he couldn’t see in front of him.

There was a soft noise, a hand on something metallic, and then Gladio’s voice counting quietly to three, the first words he’d voiced. Something else then, a sick sound that the back of Ignis’ mind found similar to the sound of Gladio pulling his sword free from a garula’s body. It settled into the bottom of his heart and tied itself around the syllable of a name. _Noct_.

Another sound, a soft grunt from Prompto, and then a blade resting on stone. Ignis had a good imagination, but he needed to know. “Report.” The word was almost a growl.

Footsteps, two pair, descending the stairs, heavy. A shuffling at the bottom, and then a single pair of footsteps coming towards him. A hand caught Ignis by the wrist and pulled him along forwards, towards what he already knew.

 

“Here,” Prompto, softly, guiding with gentle pressure to tell Ignis he should kneel. He did so, and then, before anything else, he removed his gloves. Only then did he reach out to learn what they couldn’t tell him.

A shoulder. Skin, no fabric. Gladio. Lower, then. His hand trailed down, brushing against hair, and Ignis couldn’t suppress the initial flinch. He steeled himself, and ran his fingers through Noct’s hair and to his King’s face.

Cool, still, too still. Even when Noct was holding still he’d moved. This had a sense of finality to it, an almost perfection in calmness, something Ignis knew he would never have found in Noctis outside of death.

His hand continued, trembling ever so slightly over the insignia on the cloak, and then it was caught by Gladio’s hand, a growled wordless warning that Ignis was too close to something he shouldn’t know.

He pulled his hand free and reached again, only to encounter Prompto’s hands.

“Ignis… you gotta know something first. You know…” Prompto’s voice quavered and he took a breath to steady it. “You know how the Royal Arms worked? How Noct’s magic changed the blades before they hit him? This… it didn’t change. It… didn’t enter the Armiger.”

As Ignis wrapped his mind around that, a memory washed over him.

 

They were bunked up in the camper at Hammerhead, freshly back from the Keycatrich Trench, and Noctis was leaned against the outside wall with his eyes closed. He’d been below the window and Ignis hadn’t been able to see him from the sink, so he’d put the dishes aside and gone outside.

“Ah, there you are, Noct. Is everything all right?”

“I’ve just been stabbed in the chest by an ancient weapon that turned into crystalline light seconds before it hit me, Ignis. What do you think?” Noct grumbled, and then opened his eyes to look up to the other. “It hurt. It knocked the wind out of me. It felt like… like a star had burst in my chest.” His hand moved to cup the air in front of where the blade had gone. “And then it stopped.”

Ignis moved Noct’s hand to the side and unbuttoned his charge’s shirt. “That button still needs to be sewn back down. Let me see…”There was a faint something on Noct’s chest, a wisp of a line almost like a scar. But nothing like the scar that was on the younger man’s back. “It appears you’ll be none the worse for wear for it, but we should probably have a look later. Now get inside and change. I need to sew that button on before it’s lost halfway to Altissia.”

 

“Where is the entry? From his collarbone to the bottom of his sternum?” Ignis asked, again reaching for the King. “I need to know.” He couldn’t explain why. Not yet.

“Yeah, just about. It…” Prompto swallowed again. “It was Regis’ blade, Ignis. His father’s sword.” The blond’s voice gave out and he fell silent beside Ingis.

Fingertips, delicate touch. From cheek to neck. Neck to collarbone. Down and towards the hollow of Noct’s throat. There, the aberration in the cloth, the flaps of sliced fabric that spoke of a sharp blade. Ignis followed the fabric, trying not to imagine the blood he couldn’t see, the rent flesh underneath. His King, his Prince, his _friend_.

“Enough,” Gladio growled, shifting Noct away from Ignis, and while he couldn’t see anything, it was still reflex that made Ignis turn his head towards Gladio. He felt his lips tighten, and then he sighed with a nod. Enough, indeed.

Hands again moved for Noct, and finally Ignis found his arm and trailed down to the lifeless hand. He lifted it, made to bring his King’s fingers to his lips to kiss the ring… the ring. Where was the ring? This was his right hand… “Where is the ring?”

Shuffling and footsteps as Prompto rose to look around. “Did it fall off on the stairs? He had it when we saw him last, right?” Ignis heard more shuffling, and Noct moved under his grasp as Gladio patted around the King’s clothing.

“Uh guys… I’ve got bits of it up here,” Prompto called from above. “Looks like it shattered off his finger. I don’t see… wait, there it is!” There were some grunts, and then an exclamation of satisfaction. “Got it. The gemstone was under the throne. Wonder what made it crack like that.”

“We’ll have a replica made. It wouldn’t do to bury him without it. Bring the sword along, Prompto. He deserves that much,” Ignis called as he felt Gladio rise. Noct’s hand fell away, and for a moment, Ignis felt his heart struggle go with it.

“Yup,” Prompto replied, grunting as he collected the sword. “But guys… where are we going to go?”

“The same place we went when all this started,” Gladio growled, his voice shaken but clearly his own again. “Hammerhead.”


	2. Chapter Two

****Hammerhead.

Ignis would have stared at Gladio if he could have. He might have tried anyway. At least he hadn’t ripped off his glasses in frustration. Yet. “And how, pray tell, will we be going about that? I rather doubt we can locate a suitable vehicle, and while we could possibly summon some chocobo, the ride out will be difficult enough for the three of us alone.” He couldn't mention the behemoth in the room. He just couldn’t bring himself to say that he wasn’t going to be party to draping Noct across the back of a chocobo and hoping for the best that the bird didn’t drop him. And he would never _ever_ entertain the idea of tying the King to his mount.

“We walked here, we’ll walk back,” Gladio growled, using that same tone he’d used against Noct on the train.

 It pissed Ignis off then, and it did so again, his normally cool temperament slipping and allowing pent-up emotions to escape his usually tight rein. “He’s not going to _walk_ , Gladiolus. He’s dead.”

A gasp from Prompto silenced Ignis, and after several heartbeats, Ignis tried to regain his dignity, his voice still angry but some of his feelings back under control. “Leave him here with me, and you and Prompto search for anything useful. Prompto, a bag of some sort would help with my daggers, and if you’re lucky enough to find something the King’s sword will fit in, all the better.”

There was more silence, and then a few soft sounds that Ignis could only half imagine. A quiet growl from Gladio, and the sounds of Prompto thumping the bigger man’s shoulder prefaced Gladio’s unusually soft words. “Stay here with him, then. And take your dagger. If it isn’t us or someone friendly that comes back, do what you have to.”

Ignis lifted his hand and felt the weight of his dagger as Gladio returned it, hilt first. “I apologize, Gladio. Today… has been… trying.” They’d had Noct back for less than twenty-four hours. Ten years gone, and then less than a day for reunion, only to lose him all again. It truly was too much.

“I know, Iggy. I know. It’s been a hell of a day and it ain’t over yet. Just… keep it together, and we can get through this, that’s all I ask. We get back to Hammerhead, we’ll all have a cold one and figure out what next.” That was Gladio’s voice, but it certainly seemed calmer than Ignis expected him to be. It was probably shock.

“Yeah, we’ll work on it while we’re looking, right, big guy?” Prompto offered, a weak effort to sound stronger than he clearly felt. His footsteps moved away, clearly meant for Ignis to hear that they were leaving the throne room.

Ignis appreciated the blond’s effort on his behalf, and nodded to the men. “Should you go unarmed, Gladio?” If he had his daggers, that meant Gladio had nothing but Prompto and his guns.

There was a pause, a step half caught, and then the soft grunt that Gladio always gave when he hefted a weapon onto his shoulder. “I’m good,” came the response before the footsteps started again as the pair left.

 

Ignis understood. It was, of course, necessary that Gladio take up Regis’ sword, even if it had been used to… Ignis forced his train of thought to end right there, and he put his daggers on the floor and sat next to his King. “Ah… Noct. When did you know? Had Luna told you? Or Gentiana? Was it something you learned, or was it always your suspicion?” And why hadn’t he told them sooner?

_It’s more than I can take._

It was more than Ignis could take, too. He’d made light, said it was good to hear. He’d had to; it was the only way he could have survived the night. He also hadn’t slept much, either, instead turning introspective through the darkness while waiting for the inevitable to come.

Now, he just felt like leaning back, closing his eyes, and letting it all go. He couldn’t though, not yet. As Noctis’ Chamberlain, his duty was to remain by his King’s side. He reached for the gloves he’d dropped beside him and after a moment, determined it was the left glove he’d found first, and slid it into place. Before returning the right glove to his hand, however, Ignis reached to touch Noct again, trailing his fingers along fabric until he reached that all too still face.

The backs of his fingers brushed Noct’s cheek, and then fingertips took the path along features he remembered being softer, younger. The stubble of the beard seemed so incongruous, but suited Noct. In his mind, Ignis likened it to Regis’ beard, though Noct’s felt thinner. He regretted his blindness in this one moment more than he had in the days after the accident in Altissia. He wanted to know what Noct had grown into, wanted to see the man his prince had become. It hurt, knowing he never would.

The scent of sylleblossoms rose again, and it came as a memory, Noct… no, King Noctis, standing there on the steps up to the Citadel. His face was dirty, his blue eyes dark with an intensity that nearly took Ignis’ breath. The King’s hair was longer, shaggy, the buoyancy of before given way to weight. It suited him, as did the beard and mustache that had grown in, but not filled in. He looked… regal. _Walk tall, my friends._

Tears spilled from behind those tinted lenses, Ignis biting back a gasp. That wasn’t his memory, wasn’t anything he could have seen, but it had come to him as clearly as if he’d seen it himself a scant few hours ago. “Thank you,” Ignis whispered, not certain who he was thanking, but it seemed the right thing to do. He would cherish that vision for the rest of his life, knowing that Noct had indeed grown into the man he’d hoped for.

 

Voices broke Ignis from his thoughts.

“-no… yeah that’s no good either. Here, try- crap-!” Feet shuffled, a series of grunts, and then the same voice. “Man, I just can’t see how that’s going to work.”

“I’ll just carry him. Put the guns in that and then wrap Ignis’ daggers in with them. That way your hands are free. You can carry the sword.”

“He’s going to want to carry something too, big guy.”

“Then he can carry my broken blade.”

“He can hear you,” Ignis interrupted, earning a low chuckle from Prompto and a snort from Gladio as they approached. “I presume you were only slightly successful?”

“The citadel is pretty ransacked. Ardyn had ten years to do with the place as he pleased. Kind of surprised it’s in as good as shape as it is, throne room notwithstanding. There’s a huge hole in the wall up there, and the left side of the room is pretty much rubble,” Prompto replied.

Perhaps that was the explanation for the sylleblossom scent. Ignis made no mention of it, however, tugging his glove on before passing the daggers to Prompto when the younger man nudged him. “Thank you, Prompto. And yes, I will carry your blade, Gladio. It will be…” Difficult? Grueling? How did one quantify the walk back to Hammerhead from Insomnia? Funeral, of course. It would be a funeral procession.

“Yeah,” Gladio answered gruffly, and Ignis felt the larger man’s hand clasp his arm to help him to his feet. It was the same maneuver he used in battle, and Ignis didn’t feel slighted by it, more comforted. They may have fallen to different paths after Noctis left them, but they were still the same men when united by their king.

“Let’s do this, then,” Prompto said with a tinge of reservation in his voice. Ignis could understand, they were all tired, but this was something they had to do. They owed so much to Noctis; this was something they would do.

“Bend his knees a bit… good. Got him. Let’s go.” Gladio’s words were terse and the sounds helped Ignis determine that they were as ready as they could be. Falling into silence, the three men moved towards the doors, and while Ignis had no need to offer farewells to the throne room, he heard Prompto offer a quiet goodbye before he closed the door behind them.

 

The hallway, previously quiet, now seemed held in a respectful pause, as if the Citadel itself was a living thing that was holding its breath as they passed. It was comforting in an eerie way, and Ignis wondered if the spirits of those lost to the war were watching. Then he wondered when he’d become superstitious and finally chided himself for the train of thought when he should be respectful and still in honor of his King.

Once outside, the stairs navigated, Ignis heard Prompto’s steps quicken away, and then return. The broken blade was within his reach, and Ignis opened a hand for the hilt. Even with the blade shattered, it was heavier than his daggers, and all the more unwieldy for being unbalanced. He settled it against his shoulder, nodded his thanks to Prompto, and then they continued through the streets of Insomnia’s ruins, a silent procession in mourning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Chapter Two waited for no beta, it just blasted itself right on out into the world while shredding my own heart in the process.
> 
> If you need me, I'll be over there in the corner, whimpering.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

 

They’d been walking for hours, and must have made one hell of a sight. At first, they’d started out single file as they picked their way back through the rubble of Insomnia, but then they’d gotten to the bridge and the road had opened up.

Gladio now walked front and center, Noctis in his arms. Bridal style, that pose was called. Ignis thought the irony was too painful. He walked behind and slightly to the right, Gladio’s broken blade resting against his right shoulder. On his left shoulder, also behind Gladio, Prompto walked with the bag of whatever they’d managed to salvage from the Citadel and Regis’ blade. Big damn heroes, coming home from the war.

Not. Bloody. Likely.

 

One foot in front of the other. That’s what it boiled down to. The scent of sylleblossoms came and went, and though Prompto offered to spell Gladio, the larger man refused to hand off the duty of carrying his King.

Instead, Ignis and Prompto had traded their burdens back and forth as they went, and while at first they had paused to pass things across, they had it down to an art now. Pass the bag, heft the blade. Ignis was briefly lightheaded, but took a deep breath and forced himself to keep walking.

The sun, so long absent, was punishing and the Kingsglaive uniforms heavy and hot under the sky that Prompto had said was a cloudless blue. He almost wished he could see it himself, but that deep blue of Noct’s eyes would be enough to give him strength. If his king could walk the steps of the Citadel with his head high, knowing what awaited him, then Ignis Scientia could walk to Hammerhead.

 

“What in tarnation…? Oh gods, Talcott, get the gate!” Ignis heard Cindy’s drawl gain an urgency he’d not thought possible, and then from an equal distance, the gate began to grind open. Footsteps running to meet the men, voices exclaiming dismay, it became chaotic, but before Ignis could react, a hand touched his arm.

“It’s okay, Ignis. It’s the others. We’ve made it.” Prompto, stars-blessed Prompto. “Talcott’s to your right, go ahead and let him take the sword. Cindy’s running back, I guess to make room for…” his voice trembled, emotions trying to edge through, but he soldiered on. “To make room for Noct.”

When had Prompto grown up? Ignis wondered, feeling hands touch his briefly, then move to the sword. He resisted for a moment, and then nodded and released the blade. He’d grown accustomed to the weight, and felt dizzyingly light for a moment, and then it did become more than Ignis could take and his legs gave under him.

“Woah, Ignis, hang on, I’ve got you!” Prompto again. Where did he find the strength? Ignis’ mind swirled, the scent of sylleblossoms heady in his nose, and then everything faded to a vague shade of briefly muffled sounds and then soul-deep blackness.

 

There was a quiet sort of buzzing in the air when Ignis became aware of things again. It was cool, there was something wet on his face, and muffled sounds of people came from a different room. He shifted the wet cloth, noted that he was lying on a bed, and sat up carefully, his surroundings unknown. When he didn’t hear anyone approach, he cleared his throat.

“Oh, hey, you’re up,”Cindy said gently. “Here, let me take that. Door’s to the right, about six steps. There’s a chair to the left once you’re through, you should be able to touch the arm. Sit yourself down and I’ll get you set up with some food.” He felt the cloth be taken, only to be replaced by a phial. “Use that; you were burnt to a crisp when you got here, all of you. Been so long since we’ve had sunlight that we’re all going to have to work on our tans again.”

He popped it in his hand, feeling it dissolve into mist that coalesced and invigorated him. An elixir. Was he that hurt? “Thank you Cindy. The others?” He rose, realizing that yes, he had been that hurt. It was almost strange to not hurt.

“They’re over in Takka’s. You’re in my room, but don’t you worry your head about a thing. I’ve got it all taken care of. Go on, sit!” She was rummaging around to the left, and Ignis tried not to accept the fact that of all of them, he’d been the one in Cindy’s bed. Prompto was going to have one amazing sulk on.

 

Ignis needn't have worried. Moments after he’d managed to settle himself in the chair Cindy had described, Prompto burst into the room and started talking. It took a few seconds for Ignis to catch up, and the torrent of words washed past him without truly reaching him. Hand lifted, Ignis waited for Prompto to stop talking. Some things never changed.

After a moment of silence, Ignis began. “Prompto, most of what you said went right past me. Start over, slower, and let’s walk to Takka’s. I need food and a shower, and then we can go from there.”

“Right, Gladio’s in the shower now, I took one earlier after we got you settled. Scared me back there, dude. Thought you were going to eat the pavement. Cindy said it was heatstroke, that they’ve been hearing reports of it all over now the sun’s back. Couple of elixir and we were all set, though. Good thing she had a stock of them.” There was a pause, as if Prompto was letting that sink in.

As Ignis nodded, he felt Prompto’s hand lift his from the chair. “Come on, Takka’s got a mess of food on, says he won’t take any payment for it. Guess we finally did enough to warrant a free meal.”

 

Takka did indeed have a kitchen full of food. There were so many scents that Ignis was having a hard time tracking everything, but a dish of something was in front of him, and that was what mattered in the here and now. “What did I miss?” Prompto could fill him in while he ate.

“Uh, let’s see… Gladio and I got set up in the camper, you were carried off to Cindy’s. Noct’s…” Prompto paused, took a drink of something, and then tried again. “Noct’s in the back. We’re trying not to think about it too hard.” Of course, the body would need to be chilled.

“But we’ve taken stock of what we brought back, and Iris is on her way from Lestallum with Dino. He’s promised to make the replica of the ring, said it would be his honor.” Ignis felt his stomach give a strange quiver, but he swallowed and kept eating in the hopes that Prompto would continue the update.

“Cid’s off in the shop, working on a casket… said he’d seen the Royal Tombs and knew what he needed to do. Noct and Regis will both get them, you know. But we need to decide where. Gladio and I thought…”

“Noct’s should be on the hill.” Ignis said with a clear finality in his voice. As Chamberlain, he’d have the right to overrule anything that Prompto and Gladio had wanted to do, but to his relief, Prompto only gave a little choked laugh.

“Yeah, that’s where we thought it should be too. Talcott’s already up there, measuring and surveying for the best setup. Got about a hundred people clearing the way, too. They’ve been at it most of the day.”

Most of the day? Ignis put his fork down and would have fixed Prompto with a look if he’d been certain where the young man was. “How long was I out?” It couldn’t have been more than a few hours; the sun had been on his face when they’d walked to Takka’s.

“Uh… you slept through a day and a half, Ignis. It’s almost natural evening now. About…” there was a pause and a shift beside him. “About seven now. Sun’ll be setting shortly. The second night without daemons. Doesn’t mean we won’t patrol and make sure there aren’t stragglers. We expect there’s some in the caverns and darker areas that will need to be cleared out, but after that? Should be good as gold.” Prompto plopped his glass back on the counter and the ice rattled.

Two elixir, and a day and a half. He’d been in worse shape than he’d thought. No wonder he’d hallucinated in the throne room. Battle injury, a lack of rest, and then heatstroke, it was a miracle he was alive. “Right, I’ll get a shower and then help patrol this evening.”

“Like hell,” Gladio grumbled from behind him. “You’re staying put and helping Talcott with the design for the tomb when he gets back. Cid too. Prom and I have already put in our comments, but you have final say.”

“He chose the hill, just like we did, Gladio,” Prompto said, shifting off of the stool and moving away from Ignis’ immediate hearing. There was a clink of metal on china, and then Prompto came shuffling back with a dish that he put to Ignis’ right. “Here, big guy, what do you want to drink?”

“I believe we were all supposed to have a cold one,” Ignis remarked, waiting for the inevitable backpedal.

A pause, and then Gladio chuckled. “That we were. Tonight, then. We can afford to let the others patrol. They’ll call us if they run into trouble.”

Ignis nodded and then sniffed the air. No sylleblossoms, but there was a strangely salty tinge… “Prompto, did you really serve a cup noodle in china?”

“The hell?” Prompto started, only to be drowned out by Gladio’s huge laugh.

It was the first time any of them had laughed in a while, and it proved contagious. Prompto started snickering, and even Ignis felt the rise of hysteria with a wash of emotion. Laugh, or cry, and Ignis chose to laugh with his friends. It was, for now, enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter three notes: I wrote this at lunch. It just keeps coming like a freight train running over my heart.


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

 

Ignis wasn’t surprised when Gladio and Prompto headed out to Cotisse Haven with him in tow. Nor was he surprised when the camping equipment was set up and waiting for them. This was, after all, Gladio he was trailing behind. “You slept here last night.” It wasn’t a query, or to be honest, a guess. Give Gladio a choice and he’d be in a tent over a camper any night. Sometimes Ignis wondered if the man snuck out at night to sleep on the roof just because he could.

“Can’t much call it sleep; I waited around to see if any daemons were going to show up. None did.” There was a crackling sound as Gladio tended the fire, and from the side, Ignis heard Prompto drag something along the rock surface.

“Yeah, he came in at about four and crashed in the camper. I was already up,” Prompto said as he settled the object nearby. “Without the sunrise, it was hard to figure out when to sleep. I started sleeping less as the years went by, if you can believe it.”

Ignis had experienced much the same, though his personal darkness had come months before. By the time Noct vanished and night fell, darkness was old hat to him. “I learned to lie still and pretend that I was asleep.” He felt his way to a chair and settled himself into it carefully, lest the thing pitch over and drop him on his head. “Noct always knew. Said it was his job to know when his advisors weren’t getting enough rest.”

That made Prompto snort. “Yeah and you bought that load? Please. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow. Sometimes, before he even got fully into the tent.” The sound of a chair being dragged across rock, and then a hinge creaked. There was a rustling sound, ice against glass, and then the unmistakable sound of a bottle being opened. “Here. We’ve got plenty. Gladio bought out half the supply that came in from Lestallum this morning.”

Ignis moved his hand and nodded when the bottle was pressed into his grasp. Another bottle was opened shortly after, and then a third across the fire. After a moment, he raised his bottle. “To Noctis Lucis Caelum, the Last King of the Lucii.” His voice was stronger than he’d thought it would be, the toast offered across the evening sky. Gladio and Prompto echoed him, the single syllable of their friend’s name whispering through the wind, and then they drank.

 

“Man…” Prompto said after they’d fallen into a quiet introspection. “Two nights ago. That’s all it was. Feels like a damn lifetime.” He grunted a bit, and the chair creaked under him. Ignis could see him in his memory’s eye all sprawled out in the chair, feet dangerously close to the fire. Prompto had singed his shoes on occasion, but that wasn’t enough to deter him from doing it again.

“Indeed,” Ignis agreed, listening to the fire crackle in the breeze. His beer was empty, but he didn’t feel like asking for another, so he just sat and redrew Noct in his head, the way he’d seen him in his hallucination in the throne room. “He grew up well enough?” A way to try to figure out if it had been his imagination after all.

The chair across from him creaked. “And how. Damn, Iggy, wish you could have seen him. Taller, stronger, more fit than I could have imagined him filling into; he looked like a paragon of some unknown power.” Gladio replied, his voice a little reedy with emotion. It almost sounded like pride. “He was downright _majestic_.”

“His eyes were what got me,” Prompto said quietly. “They’d always been blue, but not _that_ blue. And never that fierce, even when he was angry… and I’d made him angry over the years.” The sound of the cooler opening, a bottle being cracked against the others, then the cap being removed.

Cold chill reached Ignis’ glove slightly before the glass did, and he took it from Prompto with a thin smile. “I think we’ve all made him angry over the years. It was part of our jobs. And, after a while, part of our friendship.” He took a drink from the bottle, and then paused as he heard footsteps approaching from behind him. He’d planned to mention his hallucination, but now clearly, was not the time.

“Got room for one more?”

“Aranea!” Prompto’s feet scuffed against the rock as he rose from his chair to greet the woman. “Wow, word travels fast. Wasn’t expecting you for a few days.” There was a soft sound, fabric rustling and… Ignis’ eyebrows both made for his hairline. If he was right, Prompto had just… Gladio’s laugh affirmed it.

“Game’s up, Prompto. Iggy here just figured you out. Kiss her and get it out of the way, would you?” Gladio laughed, prompting Ignis to remove his glasses and pinch the bridge of his nose.

Prompto. And Aranea. “And when did this happen, pray tell?” Ignis muttered, moving to replace his glasses as Aranea approached him. The scar had faded, but it was still disturbing to others, Ignis knew, and if she was involved with Prompto, he didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable.

“Couple years back. He pulled my ass out of a tight spot, and kind of grew on me like a flan.” She thumped Ignis in the shoulder by way of greeting and he heard her poking in the cooler with the other. “Good to see you, Ignis. Heard you were still in the game, but never quite managed to catch up with you. Still cooking?”

“Here and there. Ingredients got much harder to come by until Lestallum’s greenhouses started taking off, but I still dabble on occasion,” Ignis replied, somewhat surprised at the ease with which she fit in. This wasn’t her first drop-in with Prompto and Gladio. Rather than make an issue of it and cause Prompto discomfort, Ignis took a mouthful of his beer, and mused on it thoughtfully.

“Well, Prom, I think you finally got one over on him,” Gladio chuckled. “Good job.”

That made everyone laugh a bit, and Ignis had to agree. That was one relationship that he had no idea had happened. He was glad of it, though. Prompto deserved happiness, and if Aranea was happy, then that made it fine. “Did Noct know?”

There was a pause, a guilty sort of silence, and then Prompto spoke quietly. “I told him. Asked him if he was okay with it. His precise words were “hell, yeah,” The blonde managed a reasonable enough tone to give them the idea that Noct was more than okay with it.

Ignis nodded. “Then it is good enough. But if you treat her wrong, Prompto…” he paused and offered his most chilling smile. “Don’t come crying to us when she beats the hell out of you.”

Everyone laughed at that, and Ignis took another drink to the scent of sylleblossoms. It felt good to laugh, to sit here amongst friends. It had been a while since they’d done so. And, for the moment, Ignis could almost forget that Noct wasn’t sitting there with them. At least, until Aranea spoke again.

“I wanted to pay my respects, but Takka told me I had to see you guys first. Something I need to know?”

The mood sobered instantly. “Areana…” Prompto began, but Ignis lifted a hand.

He had already decided what would be written about Noct’s death, as was his prerogative. In fact, he and Noctis had discussed it at length before the prince had vanished, though Ignis only now understood what Noct had been trying to do. Sorry, my Prince- no, my King. There is no gentle way to buffer one’s death. “Noctis fell in battle to a sword-strike to the heart. It was quick, clean, and very likely painless.” He took a long drink after that semi-truth, and dared Gladio and Prompto to argue with him.

Neither man said a word. In fact, it was a while before anyone spoke, and then it was Aranea, with a heavy sigh of a woman who had lost soldiers of her own. “Well, damn. I guess shy of going peacefully in the night, getting struck in the heart in heat of battle is a good enough way to go.”

“I’ll drink to that,” said Gladio, and Ignis had the feeling they all did.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot begin to tell you what fits this chapter gave me. I rewrote it three times.

Chapter Five

 

Ignis sat by the fire, quietly introspective. The fire was dying; he could feel that the heat coming from it was diminishing slowly as the wood was consumed. He didn’t know where the firewood was, but it wasn’t truly needed, either. It was a warm night in the Weaverwilds, warm enough that one could sit in shirt sleeves and not be uncomfortable.

Prompto and Aranea had taken their leave, and Gladio was rummaging through the tent, possibly making space for Ignis to sleep. He hadn’t asked, and if he had been asked, Ignis might have told him to not bother. Sleep would bring dreams, and Ignis suspected his dreams weren’t anything he wanted to visit anytime soon.

He took a deep breath, exhaled, and then forced his thoughts still. With his mind still, his voice would be as well. “Gladio, if you’re making room for me, don’t bother. I slept a day and a half, if you’ll recall. I should be good for a while. I’ll keep watch tonight.” Not, Ignis suspected, that there was a real need anymore. The sun had risen and the starscourge was no more.

 

The tent zipper sounded, and Gladio’s footsteps shifted from soft surface to stone. The zipper sounded again, and then Gladio’s steps brought him near the seat that Prompto had taken earlier. “What’s eating you, Iggy?” The scuffed half-step meant that Gladio hadn’t sat in the chair yet, but that was a likely probability soon enough. “Talk to me.”

This was not the conversation Ignis _wanted_ to have, though the fact that it was Gladio that had noticed didn’t surprise him. Ignis pressed his lips together between his teeth for a moment, and then decided to tell the bigger man just how insane he was. “I’ve been… thinking.”

The cooler creaked and Ignis reached out. He was going to need a drink for this, especially if he had to go through the entire thing with Gladio and then run through it again later with Prompto. He heard a chuckle, and then a bottle was pressed into his hand. It wasn’t round, and Ignis frowned for a moment before bringing it to his nose. An experimental sniff and both eyebrows rose. “You’ve been holding out on us.”

“I was hanging on to it for the celebration party when Noct returned and killed Ardyn. After what he told us, though… it slipped my mind,” Gladio replied, and the chair beside Ignis creaked and scraped against stone for a moment before Ignis heard Gladio sit. “So, get that mouthful of courage in you and then tell me what’s going on.”

Ignis paused before taking a mouthful of the whiskey, mentally saluting Noct, and then downed it quickly. The strong alcohol burned; something he hadn’t experienced in so long that it caught him off guard and he took another moment to settle himself before he replied. “Did Noct tell you that I begged him to choose another Chamberlain?” He took another swig of the whiskey before offering the bottle to Gladio, who took it.

“He told me you’d had a crisis before that malboro in the Fodina Caestino Mine.”

Ignis kept talking, lest he lose his nerve. “You were angry with him, and wouldn’t stay by the fire. Prompto had gone to try and talk some sense into you, but I knew you were right. What good was I to Noct when I couldn’t see?”

There was a grunt beside him, and the bottle was back at his hand. “Sounds like you need this more than I do. I was wrong. He just pissed me off is all. Besides, without you, we wouldn’t have made it.” Gladio’s voice was gruff, the man clearly trying to hold back emotions for Ignis’ benefit.

“Agreed, but irrelevant.” Ignis took the bottle, downed two mouthfuls and offered it back. “I begged him to release me and he refused. I felt that if I couldn’t see, I couldn’t be of service. He thought differently.”

Gladio’s hand pushed it away. “Yeah, you need that more than I do, Iggy. Noct was better at understanding people, even if he didn’t show it.” The chair creaked as Gladio shifted in it. “And you… always buttoned up proper in your duties like a placid lake. I didn’t have a clue you were upset until the train.”

As if on cue, the sylleblossoms rose again, heady and fragrant, and Ignis lifted his head. “You had it coming.” He shook his head as the chair beside him shifted again. “But now, I can’t do my final duty. How… no. I _can’t_ give Noct the Anointment Ritual if I can’t see.” There was a finality in his voice that Ignis felt to his core. Noct was gone, the evil vanquished. Gladio and Prompto had lives of their own… what the hell did he have left?

“Damn.” Gladio had stood was walking around the rock of the haven by the footsteps, and the fire was quietly popping as it gradually died. “Hadn’t thought about that.” There was a gruff sound, and the thud and shift of a log being placed in the fire. “Regis is one thing, the Six only know where his body is. But… _damn_.”

The flowers were gone as fast as they rose. “I can’t give Noct his due,” Ignis paused for a moment, took a drink from the bottle, and continued. “We hadn’t thought that far. We didn’t know. And by the time we did? It was too late. No Coronation, no Anointment. Some Chamberlain I’ve become.”

“You’re going to give up now?” Gladio growled from entirely too close, and before Ignis could flinch, the bigger man had hauled him to his feet. Ignis was torn between pushing Gladio away and saving the whiskey. He chose the whiskey, moving his unhindered arm to try to push Gladio off.

Gladio wasn’t having any of it. “Get your head out of your ass, Ignis. You’re not the only one here. You’ve got me, you’ve got Prom, hell, there’s a small makeshift village inside Hammerhead’s fence just waiting for your word. All you have to do is give it.”

Ignis managed to smash his free hand into Gladio’s face and push the man away. He stumbled, trying to move away from the fire, but his balance was off ( _too many drinks_ ) and he started to fall.

“Damn it, Ignis!” Strong arms caught him, pulled him away from the fire and held him hard. “You done?” Gladio’s breath was in Ignis’ hair, and the sheer force contained within the larger man was terrifying. And a little comforting. “I’ll hold you here as long as I have to if it will keep you from trying to kill yourself.” The voice at his ear was quieter now. “I lost Noct. I won’t lose you too.”

Gladio thought… Ignis nearly went limp. Gladio had thought Ignis was trying to throw himself into the fire. “I tripped, Gladio. That’s all. I’m blind, not suicidal. There is a difference, however to the untrained eye they can often appear one and the same.”

The acerbic comment was enough to make Gladio set Ignis on his own feet, supporting him until he was steady. “Sorry. It’s just… well, from my point of view, it looked pretty bad from where you were.”

Ignis knew he wasn’t just talking about the near-stumble into the fire. “It was,” he conceded, offering the shaken whiskey back to Gladio. “Do me a favor and take this away. Not the best idea, I fear.” As the bottle left his hand, Ignis reached around for the chair. He didn’t encounter it for a moment, but after a little more reaching, he found it.

“Wait a minute, you knocked it over,” Gladio said after swallowing. “Let me put this down and I’ll right it for you.” The cooler creaked a bit and Ignis heard the lid almost close but not quite.

“Think I can manage,” Ignis said, feeling around to determine he had a chair leg. All he had to do then was turn it sideways and then it would be right. One he sat in it, the chair would have no choice but to expand back into shape, right? Naturally, the damned thing collapsed the moment Ignis tugged on the leg.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a pompous git?” Gladio said from slightly below Ignis. There was a clatter, the dragging of plastic on stone, and then the other man thumped canvas. “There, ready for your ass, but not your head. So make sure which you plant.”

Ignis barely suppressed a sort, but he sat in the chair and was about to comment when he felt Gladio’s hand on his shoulder. “We’ll figure it out, Iggy. We always do. Cor was right, all those years ago in Caem. We’re brothers. Maybe we don’t have Noct around anymore, but that doesn’t mean that we abandon each other, okay?”

“Thank you, Gladio. Perhaps things will seem better in the morning.” When the sun was up. Not that Ignis could see it, but it was a comfort feeling the old warmth on his skin.

In the rush of emotions, Ignis had felt lost, but in the stillness, it was easier to tell what was around him. The fire just there, Gladio to his right. In the distance there was a sound that his brain both identified and dismissed immediately. Ignis wasn’t about to tell Gladio how sharp his hearing was, and he didn’t need to think about how far away Prompto and Aranea weren’t.

Gladio, mercifully, didn’t hear anything. “It probably will. And there’s room in the tent. You feel like crashing; you can just come on. Five steps left and you know how the tent works.” In other words, wherever Gladio wasn’t, Ignis was free to sleep.

“Perhaps,” Ignis said, leaning back in the chair, tilting his head and taking a deep breath. No flowers. “At any rate, it is late, and you should rest. I’ll take the watch and wake you if there is need.” And try to ignore the sounds that were coming from the not-distant-enough right.

“You sure about this, Ignis?”

There was concern in Gladio’s voice now, and that was the last thing Ignis wanted. He nodded once, and then made a shooing motion with his hand. “Get going.”

The cooler creaked, and a bottle rustled up against the ice before the lid to the cooler banged closed. Something was tucked into the cup holder of the chair, and then a hand patted Ignis’ shoulder. Footsteps, the tent zipper, and then he was mercifully, alone by the dying fire once again.

Ignis took his glasses off and folded them into the cup holder on the chair. He rubbed his useless eyes, trailed his fingertips lightly over the scars, and then sat back to contemplate the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Ignis.


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

 

Morning found Ignis slightly to the south of the haven, working through some stretches and exercises to keep himself limber. Footsteps approached in the ground from the direction of Hammerhead, and made him pause. He didn’t know those footsteps; who was approaching?

“Ignis, it’s Dino. Man, I am wrecked to hear about the prince. Don’t know how you do it. Iris filled me in, got me up to date.” Ah. Dino, the reporter-jeweler. He kept talking. “I know we’re late, but it’s with good reason. See, I pressed her into making a stop along the way down at the ruins of Galdin Quay. My shop’s down there, and everything was still the way I left it. Guess that’s one good thing about being nuts enough to dig into the side of a rock formation, right?”

“Excellent,” Ignis said, moving to pick up the bottle of water he’d left by his foot. “That means you can collect the details you need and head back down to create the replica of the ring.” He uncapped the bottle, took a drink, and then closed the bottle again. “Prompto has the gemstone to set in the ring, so we should see him before you head out.”

Dino’s laugh was almost as abrasive as his voice, and Ignis ground his teeth and began walking back towards Hammerhead. He came to a stop, however, when Dino clasped his shoulder. “I thought you’d have known better, Ignis. The ring is right here.” A bump at his wrist, and something was being placed in the palm of his hand. “Put the stone in about five minutes ago at Takka’s.”

Ignis closed his fingers around the metal, stunned. “You made the ring overnight in Galdin Quay? And set the stone this morning?” He felt the ring, stuck a fingertip through the circlet experimentally- something he would never have done with the true Ring of the Lucii. There were traces of power, a nudge of something, but that was all.

“Hey, I’m an artist, but I know when something is important,” Dino replied easily. “And let’s face it; I owe you guys whatever I can possibly offer. The debt I owe his Highness is something I’ll never be able to repay. Something like this, it’s a few grains of sand in this desert.”

Something akin to pain prickled at the back of Ignis’ eyes, and he lowered his head, bringing the hand with the ring to his lips. “I am certain that if Noctis were here, he would tell you that the work you have done to help protect the people of Lucis is more than enough to cover that debt. Dino Ghiranze, your debt is free and clear, and I thank you for your service to the Crown.”

"That ain’t all I made, either,” Dino replied, his voice and footsteps moving back towards Hammerhead and the diner. “Come on to the diner, and I’ll let you have a look-feel.”

A look-feel. Most would have said ‘see.’ How badly they had misjudged Dino at the start, thinking he was only in things for himself. “On my way,” Ignis said, moving along behind Dino, surprised to hear the man humming as he went, as if to make sure that Ignis had a source to follow.

When they reached the curb up to the parking lot, Dino’s foot hit the concrete twice, and Ignis stopped. “Whoever was without sight in your family meant a great deal to you.”

“My grandmother,” Dino replied, clearly waiting for Ignis. “She raised me after daemons killed my parents, and though she was blind, she made sure I learned to appreciate beauty.”

After a heartbeat, Ignis nodded and proceeded over the curb. “Then I am all the more grateful for her, as you are quite the respectable gentleman.” Once on the pavement, Ignis could hear small echoes everywhere, allowing him to orient and turn towards the diner.  “Now, let’s go see what else you’ve crafted, hmm?”

 

Not only had Dino made the ring for Noctis, but he’d made three smaller versions to be worn on chains for the three Noctis had left behind. And to top it off, what nearly brought Ignis to tears, a replica of Regis’ crown. He sat at the bar in the diner, cradling the crown in his hand, running his fingers over the design, speechless.

At some point, while Ignis was tracing the lines of the crown, Gladio walked up and rested his hand on Ignis’ back. “That’s a mighty fine job you’ve done, Dino. A mighty fine job.”

Hands reached around Ignis, the slight weight of the chain and ring fastened at his neck, and though at first Ignis thought it was Dino, the soft sniffle and the gentle arms momentarily around his shoulders told him it was Iris instead. Her hair dusted his cheek as her chin rested on his shoulder. “He worked like he was possessed. Said he wasn’t going to sleep until he’d gotten every last detail right. Then, he slept like the dead the whole way here,” She gave Ignis a little squeeze before she pulled away. “Hey, Gladdy, leave some for me.” Her footsteps took her towards Gladio’s chuckle and away from Ignis.

“It seems, Dino, we are in your debt,” Ignis spoke quietly, his fingers still following the curves of the design. His thoughts had afforded him Regis wearing the crown, but never Noct. Now? Now, Ignis felt something a little like hope in his heart.

“Hey… I’m happy being even, so let’s just call it that, Ignis.” Without missing much of a beat, Dino’s attentions clearly changed to food. “Hey Takka, it’s been a while. How about one of those bowls of your jambalaya? Haven’t had one in a dog’s age.”

 

While he half listened to the sounds in the diner, Ignis reached up and touched the chain at his neck, training his fingers along until he ran into the ring hung at his heart. Left hand traced the miniature, while right held the crown. The ring felt _right_ , as if there were some sort of beneficial spell woven into the metal, and Ignis tilted his head, considering. “You’ve spelled the miniature. Subtle, but traceable.”

Dino’s laugh was bright and wry. “Told you he’d notice right away. You owe me ten gil, Iris. Even if you did try to cheat.” Ignis heard her snort in reply, and the sound of a ten gil coin slap on the counter. “It’s my latest attempt to replicate the spells in those ribbons they made in Altissia. Taken me ten years, but I think I’ve gotten it. Don’t go out deliberately to try, but if it works, send me word? Of course, without the daemons on the prowl, might not be so useful anymore.”

“There are still plenty of dangers out in the world, and besides, some carefully controlled testing might not be a bad idea. Perhaps we can discuss it at a different time, however. Right now, I have some tasks and preparations ahead.” Ignis slid off of the seat, and began moving towards the back of the diner, steadying himself mentally for what he was to do next.

If it got a little quieter as he moved for the door, he didn’t comment on it. Everyone knew where he was going, after all. Before he got to the door, a hand caught his upper arm. “Everything’s ready in there, and I put an ice crest on the counter for you.” Iris’ voice was quiet, almost respectful. “But don’t stay in too long, okay? Make sure you come out and warm up.”

Ignis moved to pat her hand. “Thank you, Iris. I will endeavor to avoid frostbite, but this is something I must do.” He moved away from her, through the door, and began counting steps. Thirteen straight, turn left. Three, then a half-turn right and four around the table. Reverse, and two to the door. Right, he could do this. Open the door, say good morning to Noct.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't quite a hug, but maybe close enough of one to count, Pom_Rania? :)


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

 

Ignis hadn’t been certain how he was going to greet Noct until he’d pushed through the door and the greeting was as casual as if it was morning in Lestallum. “Good morning,” Part of him almost expected an answer. Part of him would have collapsed on the spot. A very large part of him still felt like it. Self-doubt hadn’t crept in, it had come leaping at him like a Bandersnatch, huge and terrifying and ready to eat him whole.

The task before him felt enormous. As the Chamberlain to a dead King, it was his duty to follow ritual, and ritual stated the body was to be washed, cleansed, and anointed within three days of death. Ignis wasn’t exactly certain, but he had a heavy sense that this was the third day. There was no more time to ready himself.

He moved slowly, carefully, tapping a foot every once in a while to listen to the movement of sound. The cooler had been emptied of most things by the hollow echoes that came back, the shelves he’d once seen piled high with vegetables now barren. At least Noct wouldn’t have to deal with that indignity. _As if, Ignis. Pull yourself together, man._

Ignis rested his hands on the surface he’d found, tapping his foot. A table. Wooden, perhaps. He removed a glove, and nodded at the rougher surface. This had been brought in, likely being the only thing suitable for Noct. He lifted his gloveless fingers, reaching forwards, and found a shoe. Ah, so he was at Noct’s feet. _Good as any place to start_ , he supposed, and after removing his other glove, moved to untie the knot, feeling a wave of emotion hit him. Noct always double tied his laces.

_I didn’t… I didn’t double tie my laces, Ignis. And I fell. That’s when the… the… ma… mary… marilith got us._

The memory made Ignis wince, tears sharp in his eyes, and it took him a few shuddering breaths to gain control of himself. It had been one of the first things Noct had said to him after he’d been allowed to see the young prince during his recovery. Months had passed before anyone had managed to convince the young boy it wasn’t his fault that the attack had happened and it certainly wasn’t his shoelaces that had caused his nanny to die. But after that, Noct _always_ double tied his laces.

He worked the shoe free, set it to the side on the table, and then untied the other. It joined the first, and Ignis sighed. A monumental task for a blind man. Experimentally, he opened his eyes, lifting the glasses. Darkness. Not unexpected, but still strangely disappointing. He closed his eyes again, reseated his glasses and followed his fingertips up Noct’s side. When he reached the cloak clasp, he undid it, moving the draped fabric over Noct’s shoulders, and then moving to the jacket buttons.

One by one he unbuttoned the jacket, remembering how awkward Noct had looked when he’d tried the set on before departing for Altissia. He’d called it stuffy and overdone. If Noct had truly looked anything like his hallucination, majestic was the word Ignis would have used. He was once again twistedly glad he didn’t have to see the dried blood mar the ensemble, and he began unbuttoning the shirt underneath.

 

Ignis had Noct’s belt buckle in his hands when the door opened. Footsteps, two people entered, and then the door closed. No-one said a thing, but Ignis knew that Prompto and Gladiolus had come in to help. They moved closer, Gladio on his left, Prompto on his right. Hands clasped his shoulders for a moment, the others offering him strength, and he nodded his appreciation. The task felt far more doable now, even if it was his burden to bear.

Little by little, the trio worked together to undress their king. Noct’s body would be moved and held by someone, usually Gladio, and the fabric slipped free. The battle-torn clothing was then put to the side and someone, Ignis wasn’t certain who, had tapped on the table to the side that held what he needed to begin. A washcloth, soapy water in an insulated container to keep it warm enough to not freeze Ignis’ hands, and when he broke the surface of the water, the scent of sylleblossoms was so strong he had to grip the table with his free hand.

A hand on his back centered his awareness, and Ignis dipped his head in thanks, though he wasn’t certain who it was. As the other man ( _Prompto?_ ) moved away, Ignis wrung the cloth out until it was damp, and then turned back to his task.

He started with Noct’s face. Gentle fingertips moved along until he found Noct’s cheek, and then careful wipes of the cloth, slowly working across the cold skin. Ignis didn't want to think about what he was doing, but his inability to see required he focus. He hadn’t realized he was shivering until Gladio’s warm hand held his arm still. After Prompto took the cloth, Ignis allowed himself to be drawn from the room and out into the warmth of the diner’s kitchens.

 

“You’re doing fine, Iggy. Just need you to warm up a bit before you go back in there. Prompto won’t do anything without us there, so just take a few to warm up.” Gladio’s voice was rough, but low enough that people in the diner wouldn’t hear. “No-one’s faulting you. You’re doing just fine.”

Ignis found he didn't know what to say. He’d known that the task was going to be difficult, but it was far harder than he had anticipated. He couldn’t see to know if Noct’s face was clean. He couldn’t tell how much blood was on the man’s chest. Without guidance from his companions, he was truly lost. All he did was nod and try not to let his head hang too low, lest Gladio notice.

The man noticed. “Hey… quit that. We told you that you weren’t alone in this and we meant it. I know the ritual is for you to do it, but when has Noct ever stood on ceremony?” The large hand on his shoulder was meant well, and the question supposed to be rhetorical, but Ignis’ mind answered anyway.

_In the throne room, alone, facing down the Six while they fought Iron Giants outside._

Ignis lifted his head and offered Gladio a wan smile, pushing away the dark thought of the last time ceremony had applied. “Only when he absolutely had to,” he conceded, and pushed his glasses back into place. “I’m fine, Gladio. Shall we?”

“All right. But if you get cold again, we’re pausing. And just so you know, we’re working by lantern in there. Prompto didn’t think it right that we…” Gladio’s voice trailed off for a moment, and he cleared his throat. “Prom thought it would be better that way.”

A number of things went through Ignis’ mind. The duty fell to the Chamberlain, because only the King’s closest should see his body after death. Prompto’s decision to use minimal illumination helped honor that as best as possible, and when Ignis thought about it, the three of them were the closest survivors to Noct. He’d trusted them fully in life, and now they trusted each other in his death. “Thank you, Gladio. That helps.”

“Thought it might,” Gladio led Ignis back to the door, then opened it so the slighter man could enter first.

 

Prompto’s voice was muffled for a moment, but fell quiet when the two men returned. “Sorry about barging in, Ignis,” he mumbled, but Ignis raised his hand towards Prompto, staying any further apologies.

“It’s quite all right, Gladio here reminded me that Noct rarely insisted on propriety, and to do so now would betray his legacy. So let us all work together to prepare our King. I can wash his hair, if the two of you will work on what I cannot see.” Ignis trailed his fingers along the table until he found Noct’s shoulder, and rested his hand on the unblemished skin. “We’ll see this through, like everything else: together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Between the shoelaces and knowing what is coming in Chapter Eight... you guys are /so/ going to hate me.


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

 

The king was cleansed.

Ignis felt worse than he ever had before, and Gladio was manfully supporting him. Prompto probably would have, except that he had slipped out half an hour previous, stating that he’d sent Aranea to Insomina, and she should have been back by then.

“I should have brought my cane,” Ignis said quietly, though he’d been relying on it less and less now that he used his own footsteps to echo locate. Right now, he wanted it more as something to lean against that wasn’t the table Noct rested on, or Gladio.

“I’m not going to let you fall, Iggy. What sort of friend would I be if I did?” Gladio rumbled from beside him. “Noct would never forgive me.”

_So Gladio was doing things only because of Noct_. Ignis tried to stop the thought, knowing it was false, knowing it was uncharitable, but he was so worn, so tired, it was hard to think of anything in a positive light. And he still had no idea what to do about the Anointment. Truthfully, the only thing Ignis could think about was getting Noctis his rightfully deserved coronation.

There was a knock at the doors and then it cracked open. “Hey, guys… here. There’s been an incident, but take this and I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Prompto pushed something that sounded like fabric in through the crack, and then let the door close behind him.

“Prompto?” Gladio asked, and Ignis could hear the concern. “Iggy, we should probably make sure he’s okay. Come on out with me, warm up, and we’ll figure out what to do next.” The big man moved away from Ignis slightly, pulling him along with as he headed for the door.

Ignis let himself be drawn away from Noctis, away from duty and tasks undone. He was too weary to care at the moment, too lost in his own thoughts to notice anything beyond his nose. Which was precisely the reason he tripped on the object that Prompto had sent into the room and crashed hard against Gladio. The door flew open and the pair of them fell out into an ungainly heap.

 

Aranea Highwind’s voice went from telling Prompto she was fine to a sudden choked gasp and the clatter of her boots on tile sounded immediately after. _Well, so much for the King’s dignity_ , Ignis thought as he pushed himself slowly to his feet so he could allow the door to close.

Hands reached down to help, and the grip was slender but firm. Aranea. “I’ve got you, Ignis. Left foot down, there you go. Okay? Right foot to the left a bit, there. Can you take your weight? Don’t worry about me, get your feet under you.” There was a hint of pain in her voice, but she kept talking him through the untangling. “Prompto’s got Gladio, he’s okay. Let’s just make sure you are too.”

“You’re hurt,” Ignis managed after he collected himself. “What happened?” Again he wished for his cane, and he had a fleeting wonder at how much of Noctis Aranea had seen. Then again, she was a soldier, and nudity likely had little concern for her. Still, he was the _King_.

“Got into a scrape with a couple of yojimbo that had taken up residence in the depths of the Citadel, but like I told Prompto, it’s no big deal. I’ve had worse.” Aranea snorted softly. “Hell, pretty boy in there landed worse on me. Gotta give him points for that one.”

A shuffle to his right told him that Gladio was again on his own two feet and almost chuckling. “If you hadn’t called that battle, Noct would have handed you your ass, Aranea, and you know it.”

She laughed, a wonderful sound to Ignis, something they’d been lacking the whole day. “I said then he was fun, didn’t I? God, I’m going to miss that brat.”

_They all were_ , Ignis thought, and he cleared his throat. “Thank you, Aranea, for endangering yourself on behalf of that…” He paused, “pretty boy. What did Prompto send you after, if I may ask?”

“It’s all in the bag… Prompto told me about the fact that the clothing Noctis was to wear for his wedding was ruined and that there was probably something suitable in the Citadel, so I volunteered to go get it. Can’t bury a king in pauper’s clothes. I’ve seen the photos of what your prince wore when he thought no-one was looking. A t-shirt with a chocobo on it? Or that sleeveless thing that tries to pass as a jacket but looks like an inflatable life preserver? I think not.” Her tone bordered on offended, and then she yelped in surprise. “Prompto, stop that!”

Ignis could smell the astringent, and both the situation and the comments about Noct’s clothing had him chuckling wryly. “No-one ever accused Noctis of having a sense of fashion, I will grant you that. What did you find?”

“Once I located his rooms, it was easy to sort through his closet. There was a suit tucked in the far back, caught up in a bag. The tag said ‘Coronation’ so I figured that made the most sense to grab. Prompto, I love you, but if you don’t just give me a potion, I’m going to punch you in the face.”

Ignis considered the fact that Noct had coronation clothing and he hadn’t known about it. Then again, they’d packed up the out-of-Citadel apartment, and not the in-Citadel rooms where Noct was expected to live once he’d returned with Lady Lunafreya. The clothing may have been there without even Noct’s knowledge.

While he’d been thinking, the crack of a potion phial had sounded, followed by another. He heard someone kiss someone, dutifully set that to the side, and tilted his head in the direction he thought Gladio to be. “Gladio, whenever you’re ready, we can dress Noctis and prepare him for his coronation. Aranea, we were planning for a small ceremony of those closest to Noctis… would you care to gather everyone in an hour?” He ignored the soft sounds of surprise from Gladio and Prompto, instead waiting for Aranea’s reply.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “Talcott, Cid, Cindy, Iris, Dino, and Takka. Anyone else?”

It would be close quarters, but Ignis could not think of anyone to leave out. “Biggs and Wedge too, if they’re here. Gladio, Prompto, let us make ready the King.”

 

Back inside, Prompto took up the bag and unzipped the contents. “Damn…” he whispered. “It’s even better than I’d hoped, Ignis. Let’s see, a black dress shirt, the suit is faintly pinstriped… hey, you know what it reminds me of? That ensemble Regis wore when we left Insomnia. The one with the long jacket and the upright collar... but it’s got kind of a Kingsglaive cut to it.”

“He’s terrible at describing things, Iggy. It is a Kingsglaive uniform, just with more style. Solid black, but cut like what Drautos wore. Gold trim, though.” Gladio sounded appreciative. “It’s gonna look impressive on him.”

“Then we shall change into ours as well,” Ignis replied. “Let us make haste and dress the King, then prepare ourselves for the coronation.” He knew with the three of them working together, it would take little time at all to prepare Noct. And then he could take a few moments to himself to ready his thoughts for one of the hardest things he’d ever have to do: crown his best friend a dead King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never said things would get easier...  
> I'll be answering all comments tomorrow~


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

 

Coronation. The ceremony of crowing a king. Specifically, Noctis.

Ignis was growing weary of adding things to his mental ‘hardest things I’ve ever done’ list, but this was currently vying for second place against ‘watch my best friend calmly walk to his own death and not do anything to stop him.’ He’d finished lacing his boots, tied them, and then after a moment, double tied them in Noct’s honor.

The replica Ring of the Lucii was heavy in his pocket, and he understood Noct’s reluctance to take up the mantle the real one had carried. It meant accepting the death sentence that wielding such power commanded. They knew that the Ring sapped the life of the king, and yet they hadn’t known then how short the term was, but had Noctis? Ignis couldn’t know. He imagined the young prince had known, though. Noct had been so much stronger than anyone had realized, even if it took him ten years to get there.

Ignis had ten minutes.

Ten minutes to reconcile himself with the coronation. Ten minutes to bring his head and heart into agreement and do what needed to be done. Ten minutes to sum up the measure of a man and make sure he was doing the right thing by him.

_It looks like a horn._

_What?_

_It looks like a horn. I don’t want to be a monster, Ignis. Monsters have horns._

_I… I won’t let you be a monster, Noctis. Just a king. I promise._

_Okay. I’ll be a king. Just for you._

 

It seemed so easy then, but what did thirteen-year-old himself know? He certainly hadn’t known it at twenty-two, and here thirty-three-year-old Ignis wished he didn’t know. The crown in his hand, Ignis bowed his head. “I’m so proud of you, Noct. I should have told you before we went back to Insomia. You truly did grow up to become my king.”

There was a light tap at the door, and the change in air told him that whoever it was hadn’t waited for an answer. “Ignis, it’s probably time. If you want to get there first, that is.” Prompto hovered in the doorway, waiting for him to reply.

“Very well. As Noct would say, ‘Let’s do this.’” The soft sound of assent told him that Prompto was ‘sucking it up’ nearly as hard as he was, and Ignis rose and moved towards the door, taking a deep breath and using it to steady himself.

“Uh, Iggy?” Prompto rarely called him that anymore, it sounded strange on his ears. “Your glasses? Here, let me get them for you,” Ignis felt Prompto push slightly past him in the caravan and then pause. “I don’t see them. Did you leave them behind somewhere? They didn’t break, did they? Did you leave them in the bathroom?”

“Prompto, is it that disturbing?” Ignis quailed inside for a moment, rethinking his choice to put the glasses away for the coronation. No cane, no glasses, nothing to distract but the scar across his face, the symbol of the cost to raise a king to his station against all adversity.

The footsteps to his right faltered, and there was a creak of leather, and Prompto stopped. “No… not really. I mean, it’s unusual, you without your lenses, but hey, it’s a good look for you. Strong. Makes a statement. Like… like you’re done hiding.”

 _That was true_ , Ignis thought. He was done hiding. Everyone here knew what had happened and none of them walked on eggshells due to his blindness. They'd all taken his willingness to continue on in stride, and that had been that. Only he had clung to the past by insisting he wear dark glasses. "I am done, Prompto. There's no use clinging to things that cannot be changed, so it is high time I stopped."

"Yeah, okay. It's good," Prompto said softly, a note of understanding in his voice. "You know, once this is done, we should have our own ceremony.  Just the crownsguard."

"I'd very much like that, Prompto. But right now, we have a king to crown. Shall we?"

He heard the younger man walk back to him, and after a hand rested on his shoulder, Prompto moved past him and out towards the door to the caravan. Ignis followed behind, slowly going over the words he'd decided to offer during the coronation.

 

When he was younger, before the attack, before Altissia, Ignis had imagined the throne room of Insomnia decorated with red and gold banners, flowers, and lots of stuffy dignitaries drinking endless glasses of champagne etched with CXIV. A vegetable cooler room in the back of the only diner in Hammerhead was the last place Ignis had ever considered for Noctis' coronation.

But now, standing in this small cold room at Noct's head, listening to those closest to him slip in quietly and respectfully, it felt _right_. Feet shuffled in the door, paused, then moved around to the right. One by one those who had loved and supported Noctis in his efforts to save the world came to his side.

He heard Aranea slip in beside Prompto, heard Dino pat Talcott on the back. Iris’ steps brought her to Gladio’s left, and Cid, Cindy and Takka were the last in, the door closing quietly, shutting out the world of the diner and the chaos of Hammerhead and the recovery efforts that had only just begun in earnest.

Ignis knew where everyone was only because they’d had twenty minutes to discuss it, where people would stand, and what light would be used. Prompto and Gladio had promised lantern light, and had even dropped an ice flask in the room, making it even colder so that the extra warmth wouldn’t be an issue for preservation. Ignis hated that they spoke about Noct that way. It had to be addressed.

 

A light touch at his hip from Gladio was all he needed to know everyone had arrived. He nodded his thanks to the King's Shield, and steadied himself. The crown was on the table beside Noct, and Ignis had trusted Prompto with the task of handing it over. Gladio was in command of the ring. Ignis opened his eyes, looking out into his own personal darkness, drawing from his imagination and seeing in his mind. It was time.

"Noctis Lucis Caelum, the Light of the Night's Sky," Ignis began. "The Last King of the Lucii.” Normally, he would have been challenging the man, demanding answers of the Prince who would be King. But Noctis had already proven himself worthy of the title. This was simply formality. “You stood to aid your people at peril to yourself, bringing Justice and Mercy to those in need. You brought Succor and Comfort to those at risk. By Your hand alone, you brought an end to the Starscourge and returned the Light to your people.” _And never once asked why_.

Ignis reached out his left hand, feeling the replica ring cold and hard as Gladio presented it. Two steps, he reached, Noct’s hand was where Prompto had sworn it would be: bent across his chest with fingers ready. The ring slipped easily onto Noct’s middle finger, where Prompto and Gladio had seen the true ring rest. “May the Ring of the Lucii lead you, as it has led your ancestors.”

The crown was next, and then Ignis stepped back into place, Prompto placed it in his right hand. It took two seconds for Ignis to orient it; he’d spent half an hour memorizing the position he’d needed, and then he moved to place it at Noct’s right ear. “I crown you, Noctis Lucis Caelum, the Dawn King.”

“All hail the Dawn King,” quiet voices echoed through the room, and the scent of sylleblossoms washed over Ignis, making him bow his head.

A rustle of fabric made him lift his head, and he heard a feminine voice speak softly. Aranea. “I, Aranea Highwind, swear upon my blade that I will be faithful to your legacy and Name, and will do all within my power to uphold your honor until my death, Dawn King.”

Another rustle, and Ignis couldn’t breathe, swallowing hard and missing the first few words spoken. “-Talcott Hester, and I swear, King Noctis. Everything I do will be for your honor.”

Tears were threatening Ignis, and he blinked, still unable to see, still unbelieving when someone else dropped to their knee. “I, Dino Ghiranze, swear to keep protecting your people to the best of my craftsmanship in your Name, King Noctis Lucis Caelum.”

Prompto’s grip on his hand was sudden and excruciating. One by one the witnesses of the Coronation swore themselves to Noct by one name or the other. By the time Gladio was on his knee, Ignis wasn’t able to hide his tears, and he felt Prompto release his hand and join the others on his knee.

Ignis, already sworn to Noct, raised his arm in salute, right fist to his chest, and fell to his own knee. “Godspeed, and take care... my King.”


	10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

 

Dusk had fallen. It had been an hour before Ignis had been able to retreat to the caravan, almost everyone who had been present gently catching his arm to tell him how beautiful the coronation had been. He had thanked them all politely, privately wishing he had his glasses to hide behind, but pushing through and persevering. Now, he sat on the edge of the bed in the caravan, his head in his hands, wrecked beyond words.

A presence moved into the room, light footfalls that he couldn’t identify, and someone sat next to him, drawing him close and running gentle fingers through his hair. He’d managed thus far to keep rein on his emotions, but when Iris started to sing quietly to him, _him of all people_ , his control failed and he lost his battle with sorrow.

Ignis Scientia wept. Resting there in the face of courage and love from the little sister who never should have known anything but delight in a royal court, his heart raged against the injustice of it all and his tears burned down his cheeks. And Iris Amicitia, one of the fiercest daemon hunters in Lucis sang him a silly song about a moogle and a chocobo making friends with a cactuar until he wept himself to sleep.

 

When Ignis awoke, he wasn’t alone in the bedroom. Someone had stripped him of his jacket and shoes, and he had been moved up onto the bed so his head was on the pillow. Someone was behind him, an almost comforting warmth though he had no idea who it was. He listened to the breathing, deciding it wasn’t Gladio, but beyond that, he couldn’t tell.

At length, he sat up, moving for the side of the bed, and heard the other stir. There was a quick intake of breath, and Ignis knew then that it was Prompto. “Ignis? You okay?” The blond yawned and the bed creaked as he sat up. “Sorry about the bedshare, man, but Iris didn’t want you to wake up alone.”

Ignis sat at the edge of the bed with his eyes closed, head once again in his hands. For a brief moment, right before he’d opened his eyes to darkness, everything had been okay. Then it all came crashing back on him like a wave of pain that took up residence behind his eyes. “Headache,” he mumbled. “Need an elixir or something.” He wasn’t sure where he’d find one, but he was willing to bet if he wandered over to the diner, someone would be able to assist him.

“Oh hey, that’s easy. There’s this new company in Lestallum that’s been working on one. Iris brought some with her when she came in. Let me go get you one.” Prompto was on his feet before Ignis could ask him not to bother, and then out the door before Ignis fell back onto the bed.

“What time is it?” Ignis asked when Prompto’s footfalls brought him back into the room. He took the phial that was pressed into his hand and gave it an experimental heft. It felt strange, a different shape than he was used to. Did he just pop it like the others? “How does this work?”

“Oh, sorry, here…” Prompto flipped the thing in Ignis’ hands, and then moved Ignis’ fingers to the release mechanism. “Flip that and then chug. It tastes sort of like ulwaat berries.” He moved away and Ignis felt around the button for a moment, then pressed it. The cap snapped free and he tipped the bottle against his lips. It tasted nothing like ulwaat berries.

Ignis sputtered, choking, the effervescent chemical flowery berry flavor suddenly as strong as sylleblossoms in his sinus cavity, burning in his nasal passages, and he heard Prompto’s curse, footsteps that could only be Gladio’s, and then as he was trying to throw the bottle at Prompto for good measure, Ignis sneezed violently.

Light exploded in his head, fierce and bright and everything painful that Ignis had ever felt in his eyes roared, dragging him down into the memory of Altissia and Leviathan’s wrath. Pain claimed him and stole everything he knew, wracking his head with lightning strikes worse than anything he’d ever survived.

Voices in the distant, panicked and sharp. He couldn’t tell what they were saying. Someone was shouting, someone else was yelling. He thought he heard his name. Ulwaat berries and sylleblossoms zinged through his head, arcing in his sinuses, and all he wanted to do was die. _Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Gods, by the Six, make it stop. Makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop._

 

Silence rushed through Ignis, and he felt disconnected, as if someone had cut his strings and he was left floating weightless in a sea of nothing. Nothing hurt, which was a good thing, but nothing felt below his feet, he couldn’t tell which way was up, and there was nothing when he opened his eyes. At least in his dreams and nightmares he could see. This… this was far more terrifying.

Ignis heard a chirp. He couldn’t turn, couldn’t see, but that wasn’t a bird-like chirp. It sounded again, nearby, and then the sound of a little boy laughing. _Noctis?_ The air around him grew cold, and he tried to draw up against the chill, but he couldn’t move, he felt frozen in place while the chirp sounded again and the patter of footsteps moved away from him at high speed.

Something nudged him from below, and he yelled in surprise, feeling himself pushed up and up and no please, the pain was returning and he didn’t want that. No more pain. He’d lost his sight, lost his prince, his king, his every reason to exist, and no more please… no more…

A rumble, a question? Was someone talking? Yes, a voice. A strangely deep voice that sounded wrong yet so right… saying his name, calling out to him. It hurt, no. He didn’t want to. Please don’t make him.

_Ignis, open your eyes._

 

Ignis sat up on the bed, careless of the companions hovering over him, clonking his head against someone’s face, gasping for air where he didn’t need to. He wasn’t drowning, wasn’t in a weightless featureless world with strange chirping and rumbling. He was on the bed, in the caravan, where he’d been when… “Prompto!” He gathered all of his irritation and glared, positively _glared_ in the direction of the blond who was rubbing at his nose. “WERE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?”

Prompto, for his part, sounded apologetic, if somewhat muffled by injury to his nose. “I’b sorry. Didn’t expect you to inhale it. You were s’posed to drink it.” He quailed under the pale green glare, and then quirked his head. “Ignis, dude, you’re looking right at me. That’s like, totally creepy.”

Ignis blinked. The world winked around him. It wasn’t clear, was entirely too freaking bright, but yes, there were shapes. Light and dark, enough that he could tell that Prompto was holding his nose, and Gladio was… _right there_. In front of him. The enormity of it fell on his head, and he could have sworn he heard a chirp.

Ignis lifted his hand, reaching out towards Gladio, poking him in the shoulder. Yup, real. The phial, still in his right hand, was orange. He raised it, then threw it at Prompto. It made a solid hit against the blond’s chest, and only then did Ignis understand and accept what had happened. “Seems your efforts on my behalf resulted in my aspirating the elixir into my sinuses.”

“Dude…” Prompto forgot to be mad, even though his nose was bloody. “ _Are_ you looking at me?” He pinched his nose, trying to tilt his head back but still look to Ignis with blatant curiosity. “Come on man, this isn’t a time for horseplay. You’re totally looking at me. OMG, Gladio, he’s looking at me!”

Ten years, Ignis thought wryly. Ten years or maturity gone just like that. “You’re going to get blood all over the bed. Go do something about that, Prompto. Yes, aspirating the elixir appears to have been just what was needed, not that I would recommend it. And I’m going to need a new pair of glasses.”


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

 

The first thing Ignis did was retrieve his dark lenses to help reduce the brightness that was assaulting his brain. Ten plus years of blindness had been one thing to which he’d adjusted. Now, even a low lantern light was painful. Prompto’s offering of another elixir was met with a growl that Ignis only half meant, but it had been enough to send the blond scurrying off for other options.

“Kid means well, Iggy. Who knew that all you had to do was snort the elixir,” Gladio rumbled beside him. “Hell, maybe you’ve hit on something that can help others.” The big man’s hand thumped on his shoulder. “I’m guessing you want to go see Noct.”

 

The realization that he _could_ landed on Ignis’ chest and took up residence behind his heart. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t focus his thoughts, his head swam and the world went with it. Only Gladio’s grip on his shoulder kept him from swaying, and he flailed for a moment, reaching out to catch on to something, _anything_.

Footsteps approached and then a soft voice broke through the chaos in his mind. “Woah, easy… I’ve got you, Ignis. Just hang on to me and listen to my voice.” A hand took his, small but rough. Delicate fingers that shouldn’t be so strong. Aranea kept talking. “You’re safe, in the caravan at Hammerhead. You’re on the edge of the bed, Gladio is beside you; I’m in front. I’m going to kneel and take your other hand… just listen to my voice. Prompto, bring some cool water.” She was so calm, her words like small waves lapping at his panic.

He felt himself relaxing into the cadence of her speech, and almost missed when a cup was gently brought to his lips. “Take a sip, easy. Just let the water and my voice help. Can you take the cup?” It was a reflex to lift his hand and take the cup, take another sip of the water and close his eyes against the light. “That’s great Ignis; everything’s going to be fine. Take another sip for me… Prompto, a cool rag now, and then give us some space.”

Minutes passed, and a damp coolness draped itself over the back of his neck. Ignis was starting to feel like himself again, and humiliation was beginning to burn its way through the panic. He’d had panic attacks before, but always alone, and the prickling of his skin had told him one was coming. This time, he didn’t have the warnings; it just struck. “My apologies, I… I should be okay in a moment,” he muttered.

“Take your time,” Aranea said softly. “It’s understandable. You’ve held up under an incredible amount of pressure and now some of it is gone.” _Noct had been crowned_. “It’s perfectly normal to feel lost.” Ignis would have been offended if it had been one of the others, but coming from this woman who had commanded troops in the face of adversity, she probably knew too much about pressures and entirely too-human reactions.

 

_Damn, she’s good._

_Yup._

“Thank… thank you, Aranea.” Ignis could feel some of his dignity returning, never mind the conversation in the other room. “Your counsel is, once again, invaluable.” He reached up and touched his glasses, and though the lenses weren’t prescription, they helped dim the light level and that made it somehow easier to see.

 

_You worried?_

_Not at all._

 

“We can hear you two,” Aranea snorted, moving to stand and take the now-warmed cloth from Ignis’ neck. “And he’s going to be fine, just let him get used to the stimuli. Prompto, remember what you told me, about Niflheim, back when you were..."

"Oh. Yeah, took a while, didn’t it? Sorry, Iggy. Didn’t think about it like that,” the deep voice was a rumble, and Ignis tilted his head, trying to follow the train of thought. He failed, and found himself blinking at Aranea for clarification.

“Think of it like a trauma that you’re recovering from and go slowly. Don’t expect to see and do everything all at once. You had to learn how to live without your sight, and you’re going to have to relearn lots of things now that you can see again.” She sounded patient, far more than he had expected from her. “You have the option of closing your eyes, but don’t unless you have to. It’s like falling off a chocobo: if you don’t get back on, you’ll never learn to ride.”

“You’ve brought a lot of your men back from the edge, haven’t you?” Ignis asked quietly, taking the dark lenses off and turning them around in his hands. Her words made him want to leave them off completely, but he knew that in the brightness of day, he’d need them. A compromise, then. He’d keep his eyes open as wide as he could for as long as he could, and use the glasses as a buffer until he’d learned to see again.

 

She crouched in front of him, her words clearly intended for him and him alone. “I told Prompto once that when you’re halfway to hell, you keep walking and you don’t stop until you’re on the other side. He kept walking, and I know you will too. But if you ever feel like you can’t, call me and I’ll talk you through it.”

He felt the smile curl his lips, and nodded. “He’s lucky to have you, Aranea.” Though how Prompto had actually caught the mercenary was a story he’d have to pry out of them later. Ignis moved to put the glasses back on his face, and looked up, taking a deep breath. “Gladio is right, however, I need to see Noct.” Needed. That hole was still behind his heart, and he knew it would only be filled once he saw the man with his own eyes.

“Okay, let’s get you to Noct,” And that was that. As quickly as Aranea was ready to let him stay seated, she was ready to offer him a hand and pull him to his feet. He felt no judgements, no guesses, just a solid affirmation that what he wanted; she’d do her damnedest to assist.

He moved out of the bedroom and noted that Gladio and Prompto were on their feet as well. Ignis nodded to them, and started to move towards the door to the outside when Prompto’s voice called him back. “Ignis, hang on a second. You… you’ll want these. I mean, I know you told me to get rid of them because they were useless, but I kinda didn’t listen and kept them around. You know, for luck. Just in case.”

His old glasses, pressed into his hand from behind, Prompto’s voice uncertain and hesitant as he spoke. Ignis reached out with his other hand and cuffed Prompto lightly before pulling him into an embrace. “Thank you, Prompto. For not listening to an angry young man.” They might not work, but the thought that Prompto had continued to hold out hope meant more to Ignis than the stupid glasses.

“Can I get that in writing?” Prompto asked, giving Ignis a punch on the shoulder and then freeing himself. “Because no-one will ever believe you said it.” He was grinning, tears in his eyes, and this close, Ignis could see the relief.

“Perhaps. When I manage to write something legible again,” Ignis conceded, and then moved towards the door. “For now, if you will excuse me, this is something I must do alone.” He knew the apprehension they felt, and waved his hand before pushing the door open. “I won’t fall. I promise.”

 

And he didn’t.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

 

It was dark in the cooler, and Ignis found that suited him just fine. His eyes weren’t suited to lots of light, and once he removed the dark lenses, he found it was almost comforting. He needed at least a little to see, though, and he removed his ever-present pocket clip light and turned it on, resting it on the side table and letting it shine up towards the ceiling. The projected ambient light was more than enough, and he put his dark lenses down beside it.

Ignis took a deep breath, put his old eyeglasses on, and turned around to face his king. “Good morning, Noct.”

 

“Just… about… awake…” Noct mumbled, stretching. He was saved from falling down the side of Ausace Haven by Gladio, who was on his way back up from a run. This was, of course, not the first time he’d nearly fallen, and likely not the last, either.

They were between hunts, waiting for Cid to call with a weapon upgrade, and had taken refuge by the Alstor Slough at Noct’s insistence that he’d catch them dinner at the nearby fishing spot on Neeglyss Pond. The meal the night prior had been toadsteak drumsticks, with a side of good old-fashioned ribbing. They’d all decided that the toadsteaks weren’t as good as garula, but it made for a decent enough meal after Noct had failed to land enough crag barramundi.

Noct had sworn to catch every fish in Lucis after that. It hadn’t happened, of course. Cid had called, they’d headed out, and then they’d sailed for Altissia. Everything had quickly gone to hell in Altissia, and they’d never quite made their way back out of hell after.

 

Ignis struggled to focus on Noctis, his eyes, unused to the effort, aching. But there he was, quiet. Still. Pale, desperately pale, life and therefore color leeched from his face. With a little imagination, Ignis could see the man who had stood on the steps of the Citadel, could see the king that had told them to walk tall. And he could see Regis in those cheekbones, that nose. His lips were Regis’ too, but those eyes… those had been all Aulea.

He blinked and his imagination failed. Before him lay fading hope, the last of a legacy that he’d fought so hard to protect. Ignis had done his job, brought Noctis to the task that the Six had Commanded on those thin shoulders, and now what? Oh, he’d named Noct too well with the coronation. The Dawn King. Passing, beautiful, and then fading into the memory of day.

Bitterness rose in the back of Ignis’ throat, choking him with angry emotion, and he took Noct’s hand, raising the replica of the Ring to his lips. “I did what you asked,” his voice was a rasp, his throat closing around the words as he kissed the Ring, closing his eyes. “I. Did. What. You. Asked.” He faltered, Noct’s hand slipping free, the Ring falling away from fingers that weren’t full enough to keep it.

Ignis fumbled after the ring, catching it as it bounced on the floor, falling, rolling into a ball, knocking his glasses askew in favor of protecting the replica as if it were the real Ring. Cradling it, he pushed himself into a seated position, burying his face in his hands. His forehead touched the ring and he wept for the loss, wept for a world without his friend, and a kingdom without its king.

 

Hours later, the Ring was replaced, and Ignis stood against the fence, looking out at the sunset, leaning against the barrier as if it was the only thing in this world that could hold him up. Iris had stood with him for a while, a silent figure fierce and daring of anyone else who would approach the man so clearly lost in mourning, but in time she’d traded off with Prompto, who sat at Ignis’ feet.

Another hour, and Gladio stood guarding Ignis, though damned if Ignis knew why. He didn’t care, honestly. All he wanted to do was watch the sun set and will it to never rise on him again. Not without Noctis. After all, he’d done his duty. He’d done what the Six had asked. Now they could let him go.

Ignis never saw the hand that hit him. He hadn’t seen its owner, hadn’t seen Gladio get up and move away in surprise. The only thing he knew was that he was suddenly on his ass on the gravel, looking up at a figure shadowed in the night sky. “Get those fool-assed thoughts out of your head, boy, and get up. You think he’d want you moping like a lost soul? Mourn, yes. Weep if you have to. But don’t you dare think for one second that Noctis would want you to throw yourself after him.”

“Cid…” Ignis breathed, focus coming into sharp and pained awareness. Anger filled him and he moved to his feet, glaring down at the older man. “What would you know? You walked away. You were Regis’ Chamberlain and you left him! You didn’t do your duty; you didn’t serve your king! You hunkered down here in Hammerhead when Regis needed you at his side.” By the time he was finished, Ignis was nearly roaring the words, and he wasn’t sorry for them.

“And you don’t think I don’t kick myself every day for that, boy?” The elderly man shot back. “You think I don’t replay that day in my head, wishing that one of us had enough brains to realize that we were only hurting each other? You think I don’t know what you’re thinking? What you’re going through? Son, you’re hurting. We’re _all_ hurting.” Cid reached out his hand and waited. “So don’t do it alone.”

The anger had risen, and Ignis felt it washing away from him. He wasn’t over this, not yet, but Cid had managed to remind him that he wasn’t the only one, and by losing himself in everything that happened, he was forcing the others to put their feelings aside. It made his cheeks burn and he reached up to take Cid’s hand, allowing the older and surprisingly strong man to draw him into an embrace.

“Not a day goes by that I don’t regret what I did, son. Not one damned day. Now you walk with old Cid a while, see what I’ve put my pain to work doing.” Cid moved away, leading Ignis back into the depths of the garage.

 

There, in the lights that should have illuminated a car being worked on, rested two caskets. Ignis felt his breath catch in his throat as he approached. He hadn’t known that Cid could work with wood, or that it was possible for something so macabre to be so beautiful. He reached out to rest his hand on the one closest to him, feeling the wood where it joined.

“That one’s Noct’s. They’re no stoneworked masterpieces, but they’ll hold up once finished. Somewhere down the road, once the Tombs are finished, we can get ‘em done up right like the others. This old man probably won’t be around for that, so you promise me it’ll happen, son.”

Cid’s hand grabbed Ignis’ on the casket, and Ignis turned to look at him. He was old, Ignis realized with shock. Older than he’d expected, and Ignis ducked his head. “I promise. Regis and Noct both will have proper Tombs to remember them by.”

“Good,” the impossible grip released him, and Cid followed it with a fatherly pat. “Now you get out there and show your friends that you’re not going to do anything stupid. They’re worried about you.”

Ignis walked out of the garage, trying to work up an apology in his head, trying to come up with the words that he needed to rationalize to the others what had happened. He’d gotten as far as starting with the words ‘I’m sorry, I’m an idiot’ when his blurred gaze met Prompto’s and the blond tore himself from Aranea to throw himself into Ignis.

“Gods, Ignis… don’t… don’t… okay? Just… don’t.”

“Okay,” Ignis replied. “I’m sorry. I just…”

Arms grabbed him and Prompto both, and Ignis wasn’t surprised it was Gladio, though a rare moment of affection from the man. “Wuss,” he rumbled, and suddenly everything would be all right. In time.

               

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so hard to write. All day, all I could see was Ignis crumpled on the floor.  
> When you're halfway to hell, keep going.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

 

Ignis hadn’t found anything remotely like the anointing oils that had been used for kings past, though Aranea had brought back a strange assortment of colognes and perfumes. And like hell he was going to use cooking oil. He leaned on the wall of the camper, glasses in one hand, pinching the bridge of his nose with the other. His eyes hurt.

That was going to be his new normal for a while, he reasoned. He was overdoing it, and he knew it, but what choice did he have? Emotional rollercoasters aside, he was the Chamberlain and he had a duty to perform. He’d just have to make things work, and the best option he had was the small phial of hi-ether that he’d been holding back in case Noctis had needed it when he returned.

He hadn’t remotely considered that Noctis would return with so much crystalline energy that the hi-ether was, as Dino had said earlier, but a few bits of sand in a desert. And, if Ignis was honest with himself, there was a certain sort of symmetry with the idea of anointing Noctis with something that had been derived from the king’s own magic years ago.

“You ready to do this?” Gladio had stayed near Ignis, clearly unwilling to let the other man out of his sight until he was certain Ignis wasn’t apt to be stupid. Again. “Prompto’s made it pretty clear to everyone that this is a private thing, but most everyone wants to hold vigil. Aranea’s arranging that over there,” he waved off to the right. “so you ought to be clear for an hour or so. Prom and I will stand guard at the inner door; Iris said she’d take the kitchen.”

_Deep breath, Ignis. You can do this._ “All right. Let me get my jacket.” Because he’d be damned if he was in partial uniform for this. This, then the funeral. And then the uniform would be put away, the Kingsglaive retired.

 

Inside the camper, Ignis collected his jacket and the phial of hi-ether, regarding it for a moment before closing his fist around it gently. Time to add yet another thing to his list.

 

They followed him to the diner, to the kitchen door, and they waited, heads bowed, and Ignis turned to see those who had loved Noctis as a prince struggling to honor him as a king. And as he stood there, trying to decide what he could say, they moved to the side, allowing Aranea to pass through them and face him. “Thank you,” she said, touching his arm. She turned and moved back through the people, and one by one, they touched his arm just as she had, thanking him before turning away. By the time Iris stepped aside to allow him to enter the kitchen, Ignis might as well have still been blind for the tears in his eyes.

Prompto and Gladio looked the same, for they had known what Aranea had planned. She’d told them, asking them not to tell Ignis because he needed the strength from the others, but would have waved it off if he’d known it was coming. Such was the stalwart Chamberlain’s nature. Humble, self-deprecating, raised to serve. They all knew how lost he was.

The two at the door to the cooler echoed the actions of the others, and Gladio opened the door for Ignis. Then, saying nothing, he and Prompto both raised fist to chest in salute. Tears blinding him, Ignis closed his eyes and relied on his other senses to see him through the moment.

The door closed behind him, and he was alone with his king.

 

He hadn’t known what to say. He hadn’t gotten that far in his studies. The Rite of Marriage had come first, then the discussion of royal births. He knew those by heart, as deeply as he knew that he would never say them. In a sense, it was a blessing. No-one else would be cursed to die young, forcibly aged by the need to uphold the Wall. But dying too, was the magic that had given the land life. Everything had a price. The words had come to him only hours ago, what he should say, the old language rough on his tongue now fluid in his ears.

Ignis opened his eyes, took a deep breath, and then approached Noctis. Normally, the Anointment would have been done prior to the funerary dressing, but the coronation had come first. So Ignis gently unbuttoned the uniform, slowly moving fabric to the sides and revealing enough of Noct’s chest that he could do what was needed. He didn’t want to see the wound that Regis’ sword had left. He left the shirt a little more closed than he might have otherwise.

Carefully opening the phial, he decanted some of the precious contents onto his fingers, and reached out to exposed skin of the king’s chest. Two fingers down, then a curved line across the top, an inverse of the symbol used for Regis. It seemed fitting; it looked like a closed eyelid. “Deus dormit et liberi ignem faciunt numquam extinguunt ne expergisci possit.”

He moved to the hand with the Ring, decanting more of the faintly glowing liquid, repeating the symbol and ensuring to traverse the ring itself. “Omnia dividit tragoedia coram amandum quae.” The air seemed to still around him, as if power were amassing, awaiting the release of a spell that Ignis was casting. He wasn’t drawing on any magic. Without Noctis, he couldn’t. The scent of sylleblossoms rose beneath him, and Ignis paused to take them as strength.

At length, he moved to brush Noct’s hair from his face. More of the liquid on his fingers, the symbol traced gently on Noctis’ forehead. “Et nocte perpetua in desperatione auroram videre potest mane tempus expergiscendi.” Ignis’ voice broke, but he finished the words, forcing his emotions down, ignoring his own heart’s ache that swelled alongside the scent of the flowers Noct had loved.

The last act, the ritual passing of the oil through the body… Ignis moved, reached, parted Noct’s lips. It was easy, too easy, and again Ignis had to force down his own thoughts as he moved to tip the remaining contents of the phial into Noct’s mouth. “Requiem aeternam dona eis, et lux perpetua luceat eis.”

Power burst, the spell that Ignis wasn’t casting rolling away in a great wave of _something_ , and he knew it wasn’t his imagination because he heard Prompto’s surprise outside the door. He couldn’t stop. He had to finish. One last time, Ignis Scientia leaned over Noctis Lucia Caelum and took the King’s right hand into his. He kissed the ring and his world exploded in light and pain.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, since many of you are asking, this is the source(s) for the Latin:
> 
> Somnus, Final Fantasy XV: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pu48lovkg2o
> 
> God sleeps  
> And his children start a fire  
> Which they cannot extinguish  
> And he will never be able to awake.
> 
> Every tragedy divides,  
> before our very eyes,  
> the things which should be loved.
> 
> And in this endless night,  
> In despair,  
> He can see the dawn  
> That will awake him in the next morning.
> 
> Lux Aeterna (Ligeti, paraphrased)
> 
> Grant them eternal rest,   
> And may everlasting light shine upon them.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

 

Sylleblossoms. He could smell sylleblossoms. And that light had been so bright that he might as well be blind again. He sat up, reaching for his face, feeling for glasses that weren’t there.  They must have fallen… he reached down for them, feeling something other than the cold hard floor of the cooler. Bits… leaves? Wait, grass? Or… flowers? What was he sitting on? Had someone come in and laid flowers on the floor? Was that where the sylleblossoms were coming from?

Had he been so focused on the anointment that he’d missed it when he stepped in the room?

“Ignis! Ignis!”

Voices, they seemed so far away. Prompto and Gladio calling to him. What the hell had happened? He blinked, trying to see around him, but it was so damned bright… the pain overwhelmed him and he closed his eyes against it.

 

“Here he is, I’ve found him!” a soft voice called, laughing undertones rippling through. “We thought we’d lost you, Ignis. What in the world possessed you to wander out here?” No, that voice. He’d know it anywhere. Color drained from his face as a gentle pair of hands caught him up and warmth filled him. The light became easier, the pain diminishing. But his eyes were only for the face behind the one so stunningly close.

Blue eyes, dark hair flopped carelessly around a youthful face and a wry smile. “And he calls _me_ sleepyhead. Not that I’m against a nap, Ignis, but out here at the edge of the garden? Surely the gazebo is more comfortable.” He jerked a thumb behind him, shaking his head. “I mean, that’s _my_ main nap spot.”

Noctis. _Noctis_ , living and laughing and standing behind Lunafreya as if nothing had happened. As if nothing had changed. They were there and Ignis was reaching to them in dumbfounded bewilderment and Noct was _laughing_ at him.

“Noct?” Ignis managed, dumbfounded, and he felt Luna move, felt her make space for Noct to kneel in front of him and thump him on the shoulder. The longer she touched him, however, the better he could see. Noct, breathing and laughing and just being _Noct_.

“Cobwebs in your head? Come on, you promised Luna you’d make my favorite tonight.” Noct rose and took Luna’s hand, starting to move away and lead Ignis to where-ever he had come from.

“I promised… Luna,” Ignis’ head was swimming. Hadn’t he..? Wait, what had he been doing? Hadn’t he been holding something? Ignis turned his gaze and spotted Umbra sitting next to Pryna beside where Luna had risen. The messenger dog tilted his head, as if to ask his own question, and Ignis blinked as Luna’s hands fell away. Images, sounds, scents, they all came crashing down in Ignis’ mind, and he rocked back on his heels in pain.

_Oh_.

 

The Iron Giants loomed before them, and Ignis could feel the raw power they exuded. Blades came to his command, and he leapt into the oppressive force, grinning with a joy he did not feel, but determination. They would not reach his king.

Beside him he could hear Gladio and Prompto joined in battle. Prompto’s guns cut through the bellows of the daemons, and Gladio whooped as he landed a clear hit. They were going all out, nothing held back in defense of king, country, and everything they held dear, and Ignis spun at a change in the breeze, avoiding an attack, listening and pushing back with blades extended.

They shot home, but he’d hit something mobile, and went airborne. “Ignis!” Gladio yelled, and Ignis reached out, blade tucked against his arm. The bigger man caught him, swung him down with a grunt, and spun away to attack the enemy again. It was chaos. It was damn near hell. Ignis kept fighting. _When you’re halfway to hell, keep going._

He heard a break in the gunfire, Prompto cursing and reloading. Ignis threw a flask of ice magic to help distract the enemies from Prompto. “Heads up!” Cursing erupted as his companions darted out of the backlash, and he heard the Iron Giants roar in fury. Now _that_ was something to grin about.

Gladio’s blade had broken first, the sound of the metal breaking as it impacted on the frozen metal shell, resulting in an angry bellow from the Iron Giant. Prompto yelled, firing his pistols, and chaos erupted once more.

The Iron Giant next to him swept his arm out and Ignis missed the sound, momentarily distracted by a percussion of power from deep inside the Citadel that was somehow lodged beside his heart. There was a loud jarring thud, and pain, but the pain seemed fleeting compared to the deafening silence accompanied by a flash of brilliant light.

And then rose the sun.

“Ignis! Ignis!”

 

And just like that, it didn’t matter. Noct and Luna were walking ahead, Pryna and Umbra bounding up to join them. Umbra paused, looking back at Ignis again, and Noct lifted his hand, motioning for Ignis to follow. Just like he used to.

“Ignis!”

“On my way,” Ignis replied, rising and dusting himself off. Mother and child rice bowl, then. And perhaps the memory cake if he could find some fresh ulwaat berries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't mean to write this. I haven't written fanfic for ten years. I've been focusing on my own novels. But then I (finally) got Final Fantasy XV installed and spent 129 hours screaming at the screen, ranting at monsters, and cussing Prompto out for missing. And then I got to hour 130. And I cussed out the writers of the game with tears on my face.
> 
> Naturally, I needed more. So I started writing, because that's kinda what I do.


End file.
